Who'd Have Known
by petrelli heiress
Summary: Inspired by a song. Peter/Sylar. Who'd have known that two men who were once mortal enemies could be so happy together? Includes baby Noah. Awww, cutie. SLASH, oh my god, no way! So obviously - don't like, don't read.


**Who'd Have Known**

**Author's Note: Inspired by the Lily Allen song 'Who'd Have Known.' I have been dreaming about this for the past week and just had to get it down. Hopefully you enjoy it. And obviously, if you don't like slash, don't read. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. Or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who or the song 'Eye of the Tiger' for that matter. Just so you know.**

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Peter and Sylar had not been friends very long. They talked a lot, sure, and to everyone around them they appeared to be almost the best of friends. Ever since that time they had saved the world together – that was it, Peter thought. Ever since then everyone had just assumed they were. I mean, you couldn't go through the incredible process of saving the world without becoming best buddies, could you? It seemed not.

Peter didn't really like Sylar. Or, well, the more correct thing would be to say that some of the things Sylar did made him uncomfortable. The way he was just that little bit too close; the way he didn't even seem to notice; the way Peter noticed _every time_. Sometimes he wondered if it was just him, if Sylar felt nothing. And then he'd notice a look, a glance, a full-frontal gaze, sometimes, and he'd know: Sylar felt it too.

The night everything changed they were watching _Buffy_. It had become a bit of tradition ever since they'd discovered their mutual amusement over the Spike/Xander relationship. They'd gone out of their way to read entirely too much into the subtext which – they believed – wasn't even subtext at all. They would more often than not end up laughing until they felt like their bladders were going to break. Sometimes they'd turn off the sound and, with Sylar as Spike and Peter as Xander, have a conversation which would immediately turn into confessions of undying love. It was pretty fun.

Sylar, trying not to die of laughter from their most recent of these conversations, looked at the clock. Since this was his apartment there were a lot of clocks. It helped to control his hunger. It said that it was five o'clock in the morning.

"It's five am, Peter," he said. "I think it's probably time I went to bed."

Peter, now trying to control his sniggers (since he thought they sounded particularly unattractive), blinked and looked at the clock closest to him. "Oh," he said. "Okay."

He stood up and walked down the hallway, moving out of sight, probably going to the bathroom, Sylar thought.

He stretched, yawning. Laughter could be as tiring as anger, he'd noticed, but much more fulfilling. He turned off the TV and made his way to his room, knowing that Peter would let himself out.

So it was with some surprise that he found Peter in his room, sitting on his bed. He smiled in a rather confused way. It wasn't that he wanted Peter to go – on the contrary he wanted him to stay very much – it was just that Peter had never done this before. After all it wasn't the first time they'd watched _Buffy _until the wee hours of the morning.

"Peter?" He'd never really been one to beat around the bush. He sat down next to him. But it looked like he was about to start. "Tomorrow looks to be fine, weather-wise," he said, mentally beating himself up inside. What the hell was he thinking? The _weather_? That's the best he could come up with?

He decided to just go for it. He put his arm around Peter (in a very friendly, man-to-man way just in case he was mistaken) and said, "You know, it's getting a bit, well, early, really so maybe we should get a bit of shut eye? 'Cause, you never know when we might have to save the world again."

Peter had initially meant to go the bathroom (yes, really) but somehow he hadn't. He passed Sylar's bedroom and something had come over him. Or, really, if he wanted to be honest with himself, it had come over him when Sylar had said he was going to bed. He didn't want this feeling, even though it felt right to have it. Really, he didn't. And yet...sometimes he wondered.

He'd sat on Sylar's bed (actually quite comfy – this had stumped him for some reason, he knew not why) and contemplated what he was about to do. Or, really, make Sylar do because, deep down, Peter knew he was a bit of a coward. At least when it came to this.

Sylar had come in and put his arm around him. He was talking about the weather, or something. He didn't know why but at that moment he looked over at Sylar. He really didn't know where this was going, since Sylar appeared to want him to leave.

And then Sylar's lips were pressed against his and everything felt right, as he'd always known it would feel.

He hadn't really _meant _for it to be like this. Initially it had been just an experiment (really, it had) but it had stopped being one the moment their lips had touched. And he didn't mind one bit.

They spent most of that day kissing, drinking deep of each other, hearing their heartbeats intermingle. It felt wonderful and right, as though everything had been leading up to this one moment.

At about noon Sylar got up and left the room, returning a moment later with some food and a few DVDs. Peter suddenly realised he was ravenous with hunger. At least he hoped that was what the noises emanating from his stomach indicated. Sylar wouldn't tell him what the DVDs were and somehow he loved this. He didn't know why. He would usually have been annoyed. He had very particular taste in movies and TV shows. Not just any old thing could please him.

Sylar threw him a packet of Tim Tams and then slid the DVD in as Peter devoured the chocolate biscuits. Peter loved chocolate.

"Leave some for me, Peter," Sylar said, unable to stop himself from smiling at Peter's greed. "Don't be such a pig."

Peter widened his eyes very innocently. "Who, me?" he meant to say but the effort was ruined by the amount of chocolate biscuit in his mouth which turned it into, "Mmmf, mm?"

Sylar merely rolled his eyes before jumping back into bed. Peter offered him the rest of the Tim Tams as a sort of peace offering. Then his eyes strayed to the TV screen and widened. He swallowed the rest of the biscuits and cried, "_Doctor Who_! Why didn't you tell me you had _Doctor Who_?" He jumped up and down in child like excitement.

Sylar laughed. "I wanted it to be a surprise, idiot." He pushed him gently.

They were kissing then almost as though no time had passed, as _Doctor Who _played on in the background.

***

Peter didn't move in _immediately_. He stayed there almost twenty four seven, for a week, spending most of his time either in his own clothes or, when they started to smell a little too much, in a pair of Sylar's boxers and one of his shirts.

Eventually he had to leave since Sylar was running out of food and he really needed to get some new clothing (not that Sylar minded or even wanted him to leave). Peter just thought it would be for the best.

"You know, you don't _have to _leave," Sylar said at the doorway. "I mean, the grocery store is just around the corner. I could be there and back like _that_." He snapped his fingers.

Peter smiled. God, he wanted to stay so much. He wanted to crawl back into Sylar's bed and never ever leave. Well, maybe leave for bathroom breaks but that was it.

But, he sighed inwardly, he really needed to get back to his apartment, find some new clothes and assure his friends he hadn't dropped off the face of the planet. That was, if they'd even noticed he was missing. Then he'd be back, just like the Terminator would say. He'd be back for sure.

"I _will _come back, Sylar," he said. "Really. You probably won't even notice I'm gone."

Sylar smiled and kissed him. They broke apart, gasping, about five minutes later.

"Well," Peter conceded. "Maybe you'll notice a little."

He told his flatmates, Matt, Mohinder and Claire, where he'd been. They didn't seem all that surprised. Matt even said, "It's about time."

Sylar came out with them now. He and Peter usually held hands and, once or twice (well, okay, it was a bit more than that), couldn't resist kissing. Claire had laughed and said that, her tone highly amused, displays of such affection, in public no less, usually made her sick.

"Do you really have to do that at the table?" she said. "I'm trying to eat here and I would much rather do that _without _a view of your tongues."

Peter laughed. "Matt and Mohinder do it all the time."

She grinned. "Yeah, but not when I'm eating."

He sighed and entwined his fingers with Sylar's. "Are you okay with this then?" He held up their hands.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Of course I am, you idiot."

To everyone else they seemed very comfortable with each other. But there were moments of awkwardness, to which no one but them was privy to. After all it was all pretty new. They'd moved in together. They hadn't meant to; it had just happened. Like one day Peter was leaving in the morning and then the next...he wasn't. It had been a bit awkward for Sylar, who had become used to having at least some time in the day to freshen himself up.

"Peter?" he said, pushing his arm gently. "Peter, are you awake?"

Peter mumbled in his sleep but didn't appear to be awake.

Sylar sighed and got up. He had a shower, cooked breakfast and generally did a tidy up of the apartment. It was amazing how messy it became after a night with Peter. Not that he really minded.

Peter stumbled out about an hour later, tempted out of bed by the tantalising aromas from the breakfast. He leaned against the kitchen bench and watched appreciatively as Sylar cook. "Oh, baby, you cooked me breakfast," he said sleepily. "You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did," Sylar said simply. "I know you, Peter. You would have complained until you got what you wanted." Then he blinked and looked at Peter, a small smile on the corner of his lips. "Did you just...?"

Peter blushed. "Yeah," he muttered.

Sylar grinned. "Want to eat breakfast in bed while watching _Buffy_?"

He grinned back. "I should call you baby more often."

***

They didn't want to rush into anything. Really, they were going to take it slow. This was why it took two years for Sylar to ask the question he'd probably wanted to ask since that first week. But they'd agreed. Take it slow. No rush. God, he grew to hate that plan.

He hadn't _meant _to ask it quite so randomly as he did. They'd been watching _Buffy_, as usual, and had just finished another of their pretend Spike/Xander conversations when he said, "I love you, Peter. Will you marry me?"

Peter gaped at him and he immediately began mumbling that he hadn't meant it, that really Peter should just forget what he'd said, that he should just erase it from his mind, because it was stupid. He'd just arrived at the part about how maybe it wouldn't even work when Peter kissed him. That was all the answer he needed.

Their wedding was a very small, private affair. Claire arranged it all. She seemed to like all of that sort of stuff, unlike both Peter and Sylar who took one look at all of her plans and immediately gave her the power of veto over everything. It looked far too complicated for them to even contemplate arranging. It made Claire happy. And it turned out all right, except for the part when Matt got a bit tipsy and sang 'Eye of the Tiger.' That bit was just a little embarrassing.

A month later it was still alright. It felt right, they were in love. It hadn't gotten to the stage of everything being all kittens-puppies-and-rainbows but it was certainly heading there pretty fast.

This was when Nathan showed up out of the blue, a baby in his arms. Peter hadn't seen his big brother in years and wouldn't see him for years to come. He wanted him to stay but Nathan was in too much of a rush.

He thrust the baby into Peter's arms. "His name's Noah." He said nothing else, just watched Peter hold the baby and fall under his spell.

Peter looked up. "And?"

Nathan looked slightly surprised. He hadn't expected any questions. "And nothing. Some rather unsavoury people are looking for him and I thought you could look after him. At least until I'm able to."

Sylar gazed at Nathan. "Is he...yours?"

A rather amused look came over his face. He laughed. "What? Oh, hell no. He's just...special, that's all. So," he added, looking at Peter. "Will you look after him?"

Peter, a pleading look in his eyes, looked over at Sylar, who sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Of course."

Nathan smiled and a moment later was gone.

Sylar sighed again and gazed at Peter. "How are we going to take care of him?" he said, rather petulantly. "We don't know how to take care of a baby!"

Peter walked over to him and placed Noah gently in his arms. Sylar looked down at the baby, sleeping peacefully in his arms.

He looked back up at Peter. "Cheat."

Peter grinned.

Awhile later, curled up together on the bed, the baby still in Sylar's arms, Peter sighed sleepily. "Who'd have known this would be how everything would turn out?"

Sylar stroked his cheek. "Neither of us, that's for sure."

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**Well? What did ya think? Enjoyed it? Hated it? Please tell me. Reviews really make my day. **


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